


Handjobs and Hand Grenades.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels)



Series: Permets-Tu [2]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bad Pornography Choices, Clothed Sex, Complete And Utter Porn, Consensual Kink, D/s, Dominant!Enjolras, Enjolras Was A Charming Young Man Who Was Capable Of Being Terrible, Hand Jobs, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Porn Watching, Somewhat-More-Reliable Narrator, Submissive!Grantaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:07:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pornography was never for science.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handjobs and Hand Grenades.

Because Enjolras likes being prepared and making plans, he does extensive reconnaissance before setting out to seduce Grantaire. And because Grantaire seems to like cheap food, cheap booze, and cheap thrills, Enjolras decides that a seduction plan of pizza, beer, and porn would have the highest chance of success.

And it does.

This is not to say that Grantaire is easy, merely happily predictable, and Enjolras approves of this. He likes it when his plans work, and he is going to enjoy making seduction plans for Grantaire. He thinks he'll try slightly more expensive booze next time. There's a wonderful restaurant with an extensive wine list--

Ah, Grantaire's getting off the floor. Enjolras grins.

"What," Grantaire says, breathing heavily, "was that."

"I call that a blowjob," Enjolras says thoughtfully. "What do you call it?" He pats the couch next to him and Grantaire collapses down into it. Enjolras puts his arm around Grantaire's shoulders and tugs him in. Grantaire obediently puts his head on Enjolras's shoulder so Enjolras can play with his curls.

"Diabolical," Grantaire says. "Because. I. Enjolras--"

Enjolras tugs at Grantaire's hair and Grantaire shuts up. Enjolras grins wider. "Good boy," he purrs, and Grantaire _whimpers_ , he actually whimpers. It's the hottest sound Enjolras has ever heard. "I think you know what that was. Spread your legs for me. Keep your hands behind your back, I liked that."

Grantaire does, and Enjolras starts working Grantaire's button-fly slowly. "We are going to talk about this in the morning," Grantaire threatens. "I mean it. You're going to make flowcharts. I will make you make flowcharts. I will make pancakes, you will make flowcharts. No. I will make pancakes, you will show me the flowcharts you've already made. Deal?"

"I can work with those terms," Enjolras says, finally getting Grantaire's jeans unfastened. It's harder to do on someone else than on yourself, but that had been taken into account in the plan. Then he turns the porn back on. It's interesting from an academic perspective; Enjolras really is going to write up something about it, turn his brief notes into something he can submit. But from a personal perspective, it was nothing compared to knowing that Grantaire was sitting next to him, watching him touch himself. Enjolras has plans for making Grantaire watch him touch himself. Tantalus would weep if he saw Enjolras's plans.

They're very good plans.

"What," Grantaire says, and "Enjolras, seriously," Grantaire says, and "is this what you meant by the rest," Grantaire says, and "Enjolras, you're doing that wrong," Grantaire says, and also "Enjolras?" And then Enjolras has Grantaire's cock out of his red and black striped boxers.

"Don't look away from the screen," Enjolras orders.

"You are the most evil man I have ever met," Grantaire says. "Like, the most evil. You're more evil than that guy at Starbucks who always glares at me for taking up a table when I've finished my drink. He doesn't even work there, but he still feels the need to police-- ENJOLRAS!"

"Mmm?" Enjolras asks, repeating that stroke with his left hand. With his right hand, he marks it down in his notebook. Excellent reaction to stimuli. But it should probably be avoided if Grantaire's too over-sensitized. It could backfire. He notes that as well.

Grantaire is panting. Good. But he's also not looking away from the screen. Even better. Enjolras has no idea what's going on right now in the porn film, except that those sheets look horrible on camera. Is it that way in all pornography, or just the low-budget kind that Grantaire downloads off of the internet? Is it just that Grantaire has terrible taste, or that this kind of thing _is_ his taste? Does Grantaire get off on the cheapness of his cheap thrills?

It can't be like that in all porn films, he thinks. Somebody must have a sense of production values. Somebody must. Not these people, certainly, but is there anyone in the entire industry who notices and cares how terrible it all looks, how exploitative? Enjolras has half a mind to go into the pornography industry himself, if only to make films that do not look this grimy. And he would never make his actors deal with those unfortunate, unflattering, _painful_ camera angles. Those must be banned in the holy name of cinematography. Haven't any of these people ever watched a film before? Enjolras shudders the shudders of a man who has never been without two or three contingency plans in his back pocket when confronted with the suspicion that some people are just making it up as they go along.

"Diabolical," Grantaire enunciates clearly, stressing every syllable as his throat works hard and his fingers squeeze together behind him. Enjolras takes a moment to run his fingers over the lattice of Grantaire's hands, rub his thumb along Grantaire's knuckles, and Grantaire is cursing at him and pleading with him and really just responding so well.

So Enjolras just has to turn Grantaire's head towards him and kiss him.

Gently, because he has a timetable for this, too, he can't be having with plundering Grantaire's mouth, not yet. That's a second date kind of thing. He has to take his time. He's going to take his time. He's going to have a lot of fun taking his time. But... he has to take his time. He can't do everything all at once, so he shouldn't try to do everything all at once.

God, Grantaire is beautiful.

Enjolras lets himself have a few moments of exploring the corners of Grantaire's mouth, and Grantaire hasn't moved his hands, such a good boy, so good for him, so Enjolras nips Grantaire's bottom lip and tells him so. Grantaire smiles against him. "I do my best," he murmurs.

Enjolras pulls back before he can do anything more, because self-discipline is important and he's going to remind himself of that until he stops diverging from the plan. "Eyes back on the screen," he says, licking his lips as Grantaire's gaze goes heated, but then he turns back to the porn. Enjolras swallows hard. Some day, he tells himself, he is going to get Grantaire off and not let him look away from him. He is going to make Grantaire maintain eye contact the entire time. Because if Enjolras isn't promising himself he'll do that, he's going to have to contradict himself and get Grantaire to look at him again, all that hope and arousal and _trust_ in his eyes. And that's not the point right now. The point right now is that Grantaire likes porn and he likes Enjolras, and he's going to enjoy them both at the same time.

So Enjolras won't drown himself in the emotion in Grantaire's eyes and instead tries to put all of that longing into the handjob. He isn't sure he succeeds, but figures that, if not, Grantaire will forgive him. And Grantaire doesn't seem to have any complaints. 

Maybe Grantaire's giving him a pass because it's his first time. Enjolras fully intends to get better with practice. And he won't be taking any tips from pornography, thank you. If they can't figure out the basics of framing a shot, why should he trust that they know what they're talking about when it comes to their subject matter? Enjolras just doesn't feel that they're trustworthy. There's not judging a book by its cover, but then there's also someone not giving a fuck. If they aren't going to spend the time learning how to use a camera, Enjolras isn't sure he believes they spent time learning how to have sex. You can call him judgmental if you want, but sometimes presentation is important. He can talk optics with the best of them. You have to know how to craft your message if you want it to get through properly; otherwise you're just shooting yourself in the foot.

"Enjolras," Grantaire breathes. " _Please._ "

Enjolras kisses Grantaire's cheek and speeds up his hand. Grantaire's breath hitches again and his hips snap upwards, fucking Enjolras's fist. Enjolras nibbles at Grantaire's jaw, tongues his stubble, loving the feel of Grantaire fighting for self-control. He's trembling against Enjolras and Enjolras has never felt anything more erotic, more perfect. "You're perfect," Enjolras tells him. "Completely perfect."

"You," Grantaire says, closing his eyes and tipping his head back, exposing his throat to Enjolras's teeth, "are biased."

"Everyone brings biases into everything," Enjolras says slowly, not disagreeing, but finding Grantaire's neck a fascinating place to explore, the warm salty taste of him intoxicating against his tongue, "it's, ah, important to acknowledge them, yes," and he slides his free hand up beneath Grantaire's shirt, reveling in the rise and fall of Grantaire's chest, his short, sharp breaths and breathless moans, "but hyperbole also has its place."

"If you keep talking dirty, I'm going to come all over you," Grantaire warns. "Fuck, if you keep feeling me up, I'm going to--"

"Do it," Enjolras says. "Come all over me." And then he twists Grantaire's nipple hard.

"So fucking romantic," Grantaire gets out between clenched teeth and then he's coming all over Enjolras's hand and shirt and burying his face in Enjolras's shoulder. Enjolras holds him through it, then wipes his hand off on his shirt before wrapping his arms around Grantaire.

"Thank you," Enjolras whispers.

Grantaire stiffens and starts to pull away. Enjolras lets him, reluctant to let him go so quickly. Grantaire takes a deep breath, then starts, "Enjolras--"

"Go out with me," Enjolras says in a rush. Then, slower, because that was terrible, "Grantaire, would you like to go out with me?"

Grantaire blinks at him, then laughs. He turns the porn off pointedly. " _Now_ you ask. For a _date_. Now he asks. Obviously."

Enjolras bites his lip. "Is that a no?" he asks. Fuck. Did he miscalculate? He'll never forgive himself if he did. But Grantaire hasn't been acting like Enjolras miscalculated...

"Fuck no, that's not a fucking no," Grantaire says. "Or a no to fucking," he adds. "But, Enjolras...," he runs a hand through his hair and then gives Enjolras a look. "Enjolras, what the fuck was-- no, okay, flowcharts. You promised me flowcharts. And I promised you pancakes. And you want a date."

"Yes," Enjolras says.

"Now he asks me out on a date," Grantaire repeats. "The fuck was that?"

"Our first date," Enjolras says. "For the second, I'd like to take you out to dinner. Would that be acceptable?"

"You could have," Grantaire starts, and "why are you so manipulative," Grantaire says, and "okay, look, no, you're explaining this one," Grantaire finishes.

Enjolras shrugs. "What would have happened if I just asked you out on a date? Out of the blue, without warning?"

Grantaire flushes and looks down at the floor.

"Uh huh," Enjolras says. "This way, you could throw me out, but you wouldn't be a panicked pile of nerves who couldn't sleep the night before and was two seconds away from calling it off because you always sabotage everything and you won't let yourself have nice things and everything else you tell yourself. I don't," he says, reaching out for Grantaire, "want you to feel like you're taking all of the risks and I'm taking none of them."

"I'm still going to be a panicked pile of nerves," Grantaire says, but lets Enjolras wrap him up in his arms and kiss him. "Enjolras, I'm serious, you're still going to need to talk me down and take the paintbrush and the vodka out of my hand and put me to bed and tell me I need to remember to eat. You're still going to get really mad at me for failing the cause and not taking things seriously. You're still going to get... you're still going to get me. I'm not low-maintenance."

"And you've met _me_ , right?" Enjolras asks.

"You could stand to be less arrogant," Grantaire allows. "And less focused. And less frenzied. And less-- I can't complain about your intensity tonight," he confesses. "Fuck, Enjolras, did you spreadsheet all of my kinks or just the biggest ones?"

"I'm sure I didn't get them all," Enjolras says. "I look forward to your corrections."

Grantaire huffs. "Of course you do. You have lists, don't you? Of course you have lists. You have lists and spreadsheets and flowcharts with 'the seduction of Grantaire' written at the top. I bet you have file folders. I bet I take up space in your _filing cabinet_. What am I between, gay rights and gun control? I bet you jerked off to them, to me, all _cataloged_ \--" Enjolras groans. Grantaire pats him on the head fondly. "See, I can also catalog kinks. And you, Enjolras, get off on controlling everything. And organization, but it's mostly the control, isn't it?"

Enjolras nods. "Like I said," he says. "You've met me."

"You'd be a gorgeous tyrant in bed," Grantaire says. He smirks. "Or out of it, but I know how you feel about tyranny."

"I prefer the term dominant," Enjolras says, and Grantaire interrupts him by bursting out laughing. Enjolras smiles slightly. Okay, it is a little funny. "You can call me a tyrant in bed, if you want," he allows. "There are worse pet names. I'm willing to negotiate that. But just be aware that--"

"It'll kill your erection," Grantaire interrupts. "So unless I get off on you getting mad -- which I do, sorry, I totally do -- but, yeah, avoid that unless you're getting me off by sheer force of your invective. Which we should try, because I am sure you could do it. And I totally want to do it. We should totally do that. Put it on your list."

Enjolras makes a show of grabbing his notebook from where it had fallen earlier, flipping it open again, finding the pen, and scribbling _R enjoys me talking_. He hands the notebook to Grantaire, who grabs the pen and writes beneath it _a lot_ , underlines it heavily, then tosses the notebook and pen back down to the floor.

"So what's next on your plan, oh control freak of collaborative activism?" Grantaire asks.

Enjolras smiles pleasantly. "I'd like you to stop jerking off without me. When you want to jerk off, I want you to call me and I'll come over and do it for you or talk you through it on the phone." Grantaire is staring at him with his mouth open and Enjolras reaches over and twists his finger in one of Grantaire's curls. "I don't want you to come without my hand on your cock or my voice in your ear, telling you how you should be touching yourself, telling you how much I love you. And if I can't, for whatever reason, if I can't stop what I'm doing and get you through it, I want you to wait for me. Could you do that for me, Grantaire? Could you wait long enough for me to come to you? Would you wait for my hand instead of yours?"

"Yes," Grantaire says hoarsely. "Y-yes, yes. I can-- yes."

"That's good," Enjolras says. "Because I won't be fucking you until the third date or the fourth, and I want you ready. I want you accustomed to my touch and I want to know your body, I want to know how to drive you out of your mind. I am going to fuck you so carefully, so thoroughly. It's going to be worth the wait, I promise you. But I need to do research first, and so I'm going to jerk you off whenever you need me to. I am going to learn the rise and fall of your body, I am going to learn what it takes to make you beg. Because I'm going to make you beg. I'm going to make you cry. I'm going to drive you out of your mind with pleasure. And that's how I'm going to fuck you the first time."

And then Enjolras brings him in for a kiss, because Grantaire hasn't laughed in his face and that's very good.

"You make awesome plans," Grantaire says when Enjolras lets him go. "Really awesome plans. But I'm not going to wake you up at three in the morning just because I'm horny, you need your beauty sleep."

"I want you to wake me up," Enjolras says. "I want you to interrupt me. I want you to find your way into every part of my life. I want you to call me when I'm in the line at the store and tell me you need me. I want to discover all the times in the day when you're thinking about me and getting hard, and I want to touch you all the times, all the ways you'll let me."

Grantaire looks like he can't tell if Enjolras is serious. "I jerk off a lot, you know," he says. "And it's mostly in the middle of the night. You are going to get _really sick_ of phone calls."

"Then we'll just have to sleep together," Enjolras says.

And Grantaire does start laughing, until he realizes that Enjolras isn't, and then he stops. "Are you-- you're serious? You won't fuck me until you've wined and dined me, but you want to play sleep-over?"

"You can come over to mine if you don't want me over here," Enjolras says. "Or we can fall into bed wherever is closer. Or I can sleep on the couch if you don't want to share--"

"I totally want to share," Grantaire interjects.

"Then I don't see the problem," Enjolras says. "You can come to bed when you feel like it, and if you want to get off, I'm right there. You can just shake me awake." He licks his lips. "Or you can get off watching me sleep. I'll take that as well."

"Does anyone know you're this filthy?" Grantaire asks wonderingly. "You want to control me jerking off. You want to do fucking recon for fucking me. You're basically asking me to move in with you for better access to my cock. And, oh, you're totally into me thinking you're hot while you're sleeping. I bet you'd get off on me polishing your shoes."

"I polish my own shoes," Enjolras says, and Grantaire mouths 'of course you do'. "It's a good habit to get into. I wouldn't be averse to you starting to polish your _own_ shoes, but I'm not going to make some kind of kinky deal about it, no. And," he adds, crowding into Grantaire's space and nuzzling his neck. "You really haven't seen filthy yet. Filthy is when I tie you to the bed and ride you and make you keep your eyes on me because I'll want you to draw it later from memory. And then I'll put it up in the bedroom and make you jerk off to it. And watch me jerk off to it without being allowed to touch yourself."

Grantaire whimpers. "Yes, all of that, my god, Enjolras," he swallows hard and takes a deep breath, then a second, then a third. "But, no, I am not fucking moving in with you, you will get sick of me."

"Okay," Enjolras says. "But then you're going to call me and wake me up, or come over and knock on the door, no, I'll give you a key, so you'll let yourself in. And if you don't, then I want you to call me in the morning and give me a stroke-by-stroke replay of everything you did." He grins. "For science."

"The science of seduction is not a real thing, you overly-literal-- argh," Grantaire kisses him quickly. "Okay, fine, yes. I'll call you, and if I talk myself out of it, I will fucking call you the next morning and tell you the torrid details. Which will mostly be 'I thought about you standing over me, being very stern, and then the orgasm sort of just happened'. I'm warning you. This is going to be something that happens. You have to be prepared for it. 'Hi, Enjolras, got myself off thinking about you spanking me--'"

"You think about me spanking you?" Enjolras asks. For science. Because it had been on his list, but he wasn't sure. It's hard to tell about some things, and short of Grantaire saying he gets off thinking about Enjolras spanking him and really wants to try it for real, there's not much Enjolras can do to figure it out. Lots of people have kinks they get off to but don't want to try, and this could be one of them. Enjolras hopes not; he really wants to try it.

"All the fucking time," Grantaire says. "I want you to take me over your lap every time you give me those withering looks and tell me to be serious for once. Although I like those _too_ , you kinky bastard."

Enjolras winces. "We are not mixing that in with sex. I do have some boundaries. I'm not going to be an abusive asshole. And I really am sorry for all of that as soon as I finish saying it, you know I am--"

"Hey, calm down," Grantaire says. He puts his arms on Enjolras's shoulders. "I like it when you lose control and snap at me, where have you been? Of course I like it. That's why I do it, to get a rise out of you. This can't be news."

"Yeah, but," Enjolras says, "it's different if we're dating."

Grantaire looks at him like he isn't sure what's going on in Enjolras's head, which is fair. Enjolras isn't always sure what's going on in Grantaire's. "Fine, then my rule: every time you bite your tongue to keep from snapping at me, you get to spank me later. Because I'm not giving up you getting red in the face and using your words. You eviscerate me so beautifully. I am so not giving that up. The grandmaster of self-control losing his shit over me? I live for that. I'm not giving that up just because we're fucking, that's not on the table."

Enjolras isn't sure about that, but he's willing to try it and see what happens. He's always been ashamed of the way Grantaire gets under his skin and makes him yell things he immediately regrets, because if he can't control himself enough not to shout at him, then how can he trust himself to control himself enough to love him? "Okay, we'll try that," he says. "But I don't want-- don't act out just for acting out, okay? If you want me to spank you, you can just ask me. You don't need to stand on tables and declaim about regression to the status quo to get me to do it."

"Declaiming about regression to the status quo is fun," Grantaire says. "Watching you lose your shit is even funner. And now I'm going to get spanked after that? No, you aren't taking that away from me. I'm going to enjoy the hell out of this."

Well, so long as Grantaire is happy with it, there's probably no harm in it. Enjolras hopes.

"And not that I mind you jumping me," Grantaire says, "or maneuvering to have me jump you, whatever, but," he reaches out and presses his hand flat against Enjolras's stomach. Or, rather, the messy stain on Enjolras's shirt. "You really cannot go around looking like that. Allow me to loan you a replacement."

"My jacket will cover it," Enjolras says, mentally writing off the shirt as _hors de combat_. Its sacrifice is greatly appreciated. It might find a second life in his rag pile, or maybe Enjolras will just keep it in the back of his drawer as a souvenir.

"It will not," Grantaire says, "and what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you go out, marked in my come -- no, actually, on second thought, never mind, I would be an awesome boyfriend to do that. Fuck it, I'd be _you_ to do that. You'd just love..." and he trails off, staring off into the distance. "Oh, I like this fantasy," he whispers. He blinks and looks at Enjolras, who is staring at him, fascinated and turned on. "Okay, pre-emptive strike. I am going to jerk off later thinking about you coming all over me. And then we'll go to a meeting. And I'll be sitting there in the back, with your come on me, and every time you look at me, I'll blow you a kiss. It'll drive you mad, wouldn't it?"

"Fuck yes," Enjolras breathes. "And you-- and you--"

"I'll be waiting for you to mess up, but you never will, because you're, let's face it, you're the most self-controlled person in existence, you're the kind of guy who makes people glad you're a militant pacifist because the idea of you thinking you can solve problems with violence is fucking terrifying, let me tell you, you've got all of that ruthless passion under a tight lid, and you're so good at controlling it, most of the time, which is why I love when you don't, why I love when you explode at me, because it's like you're having an orgasm all over me-- except this time, you just did have an orgasm all over me, and you know it, and you just can't get enough of parading me around, marked like a-- just, marked, marked for you, fuck, you'd put me in a collar and leash if I'd let you, wouldn't you? I'd let you. I would totally let you. Get your little possessiveness streak-- who am I kidding, your _huge_ possessiveness streak, get it all to myself. I'll let you control the hell out of me. And that, I'm sure you want to know, is when I am going to come all over my sheets, and on top of that shirt that you are going to give me, because I need something to tell me this isn't a dream, Enjolras, I need proof this is _real_ \--"

And Enjolras is taking off his red t-shirt, just ripping it up over his head, and Grantaire goes silent, staring at Enjolras's chest.

"Fuck," Grantaire whispers. "Just... fuck, Enjolras. Fuck."

"This is real," Enjolras tells him, voice harsh from breathing hard. He grabs Grantaire by the back of his neck. "This is real, this is fucking real, Grantaire, I am right here and I fucking love you, you--"

And then he's on top of him, pushing him down onto his back, straddling him and kissing him, nearly fucking his mouth with his tongue and "fuck you, you do everything out of order," Grantaire is saying between kisses as they both try to catch their breath, "you-- you fucking fuck me, then you ask me out, you make me _fall in love with you_ and then you just--"

"Yeah, c'mon," Enjolras growls, yanking Grantaire's shirt up. "Tell me, tell me how you got under my skin, with your, _fuck_ , your lips, your mouth, do you have any idea--"

" _My_ mouth," Grantaire laughs as Enjolras attacks his nipples with his teeth, "excuse me, who's the orator around here, oh right, that's you, who's the one who prances around rallying the troops for the cause, oh, right, that's _also you_ , oh fuck, Enjolras, do that again," Enjolras does, twisting to the side and being rewarded by Grantaire shuddering beneath him. Enjolras grinds down and keeps attacking his nipples as Grantaire keeps trying and failing to form coherent sentences.

"Your fucking mouth," Enjolras says reverently and claims it in a harsh kiss, Grantaire's hands sliding all over his body, up his chest, down into his jeans, cupping him, rubbing him back to full hardness, "your hands, your everything, your fucking everything, do you know that? Do you know how amazing you are, I will fuck it into you until you realize how amazing you are, fuck you over and over again," and Grantaire twists his wrist, the back of Enjolras's jeans digging even more into his skin as Grantaire moves his hand, keeps moving his hand, and, _oh god_ and Enjolras jerks up, biting hard at Grantaire's neck, sucking it to soothe the pain, nibbling as he goes, leaving marks he's going to stare at in the morning.

Grantaire is groaning a profane litany that makes Enjolras want to do nothing more than fuck him and, "I'm going to fuck you so hard," Enjolras promises him, "so hard until you believe me," and he can feel every breath Grantaire takes against his lips and tongue and he pushes up and kisses him again, gentler this time, and, "the things I want to do to your mouth," and he stifles a moan against Grantaire's neck as Grantaire's hand keeps working Enjolras's cock, the angle awkward with his arm between their bodies, but it's all the better for it, and Grantaire's so close around him, so perfect, "you are so fucking perfect."

Grantaire takes his hand off Enjolras's cock long enough for him to gasp, "you are so fucking biased," and then he slips his other hand beneath Enjolras's jeans and _oh fuck_ Enjolras is coming in his jeans. His clothes are going to hate him. But he refuses, refuses to leave his boxers or jeans behind. Refuses. Will not do it. Won't.

Probably will, to be honest.

"Ung," Grantaire says against Enjolras's collarbone.

Enjolras drops his head in exhaustion and complete agreement. "Yeah. Yes. That." He shifts and helps Grantaire awkwardly get his hands free of Enjolras's clothes. "I think," Enjolras says, hiding a smile, "this is why you're supposed to take your clothes _off_ before you have sex."

Grantaire laughs and pats Enjolras on the back stickily. 

"As I said," Grantaire says. "You do everything completely backwards."


End file.
